


In Consiliis Nostris

by phaentoms



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phaentoms/pseuds/phaentoms
Summary: ***In which Draco unexpectedly shows up at The Grimmauld Place, with a war raging on both in his mind and out in the world.***
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	In Consiliis Nostris

**Author's Note:**

> but how do i  
> silence the screams  
> in my head?  
> \- midara  
> ***  
> Harry learns to let go. A familiar face is seen once again.

The sky reminded Harry of a phoenix. Up in flames every sunset, then ashes scattered across the sky at midnight, and a young, ugly little chick every dawn, giving way to a gorgeous being of fire and life.

Currently, it was very much ashes as he sat in the still warmth and solace of The Grimmauld Place, his last connection to Sirius.

He wished he could say the war was over, that Remus and Tonks and Moody and Fred and all the other painfully gone people weren’t dead, that Hermione and Ron weren’t upstairs doing their very best to find the last Horcrux, that everyone else didn’t live in terror and fear and agony. That Voldemort was  _ gone,  _ finally gone.

But the war  _ wasn’t  _ over. Those people  _ were  _ gone. Hermione and Ron  _ were  _ upstairs. Everyone else  _ did  _ live in terror and fear and agony.

Voldemort  _ wasn’t  _ gone.

The sudden  _ creak  _ behind him was enough to snap him out of his rather depressing thoughts; he turned around abruptly, his wand ready - he’d recognised Hermione’s footsteps, but wariness had kept them alive this far and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

“It’s just me.” Hermione said quietly. He knew that his reaction wasn’t unexpected - they were war-children, after all, and all of them had plenty about them that reflected that.

Harry nodded, lowering his wand. “Where’s Ron?”

“Upstairs.” He noticed her hesitate for a fraction of a second, and raised an eyebrow in question.

“What’s wrong?”   
  


“Nothing’s wrong.”   
  
“Hermione, I know something’s up.”

“Ron wants to visit his family,” she muttered feebly.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, Ron wants to visit his family.”

Harry stared at her for a full minute, unsure of what to say or do. “And how does he plan on doing that?”

“Us.”

“What?”

“I… I want to go, too.”

He blinked, at a loss for words. He knew he couldn’t go - neither Hermione or Ron would agree to that. Merlin, he  _ himself  _ wouldn’t agree to it. “There’s a war going on.”

“I- We know.” She paused uncertainly, her eyes darting from Harry to the wall behind him. “Look, it’s a stupid idea, just forget I ever-”

“No, I’m not forgetting what you said,” he replied; it was familiar, people planning things without asking, or even telling, him, but he wasn’t an angsty teenager anymore, and he couldn’t rage at Hermione. “Look, you and Ron aren’t physically bound to me. You can do whatever you want. Just- how do you plan to leave and reach safely?” 

The question he’d asked was the last question he  _ wanted  _ to ask. There were a million others - what was  _ he  _ supposed to do? What happened to the Horcrux? Were they just walking out on him?

Hermione’s eyes widened with something akin to realisation. “Oh- Harry, we’re not saying we’re leaving for good! There’s this book on Horcruxes I left when we fled Shell Cottage - it could answer a lot. And, well, Ron-”

“You think a book’s going to solve everything?” he snapped suddenly, losing his neutral tone in a matter of seconds. “Hermione, we destroyed all seven Horcuxes! This was supposed to be over four months ago! I faced him, and I failed. Again. You think a book’s going to solve that?”

“We weren’t prepared,” she said steadily, keeping her cool. “It wasn’t your fault. We did everything we could. We failed. We  _ will  _ try again. And this book could make all the difference.” She took a deep breath. “But if you’d rather we didn’t leave, we won’t. We’re not leaving until we know you’re okay with it.”

The all too familiar sensation of the air being sucked out of him hit, and he felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’m just- is that book and Ron’s wish to see his family worth risking both of your lives?”

“We think so, yes,” she said earnestly. “Harry, we’ll only be gone a week, maximum. I’ll teach you all the defenses and charms you need to know to hide Grimmauld Place. We’ll apparate straight to Shell Cottage - and you know Voldemort is still weak.”

“Fine,” he said at last. If he was being honest, the feeling in his stomach was a twinge of hurt coupled with a little jealousy - hurt that they were leaving without him, jealousy that they could do as they pleased, while he had to stay cooped up because his ‘safety was important’.

In a split second he realised this was what his godfather must’ve felt like - missing everything, watching the world go by without him.

“I’m going to bed,” He swallowed, turning to look at a fidgeting Hermione. “And really, I’m fine with it. But please, come back. I need both of you.”

***

“Remember the wards I taught you.”

“ _ Yes,  _ Hermione.”

“And the-”

“Hermione, you’ve been worrying about this since last week. I’m not going to go and get myself killed.”

“Well, mate,” Ron intervened with a sheepish grin, “That  _ is  _ your specialty.”

Despite feeling as lost as he had years ago, he grinned, bumping his shoulder against Ron’s. “Be quiet. I’m not going to get myself killed,” he repeated.

There were a dozen other questions at the tip of his tongue - insecurities, almost, that his two best friends would realise fighting in a war wasn’t what they wanted, that they’d abandon him.

And then, the unavoidable questions, which weren’t questions as much as hopes - what about Ginny?

_ “Hey,” Harry murmured, walking out onto the grass beside Ginny, who was staring out into the fields in thought. _

_ “Hey.” She replied, turning her head and giving him a tight smile.  _

_ There was a question that hung in the air as they both stood out in the open, watching the sun set below the horizon together. A question that Harry so desperately wanted to ask, but couldn’t find it in himself to. _

_ “Harry-” She started, the same time as he turned his head to talk to her. They both stopped awkwardly - perhaps that should’ve been a realisation that things were different now. _

_ “You go first.” Harry said quietly, green eyes looking into brown. _

_ “We can’t be something,” She said, losing some of her awkwardness while talking.  _

_ “ _ Oh _.” _

_ “It’s nothing personal. You’re an amazing person, Harry. But I’m not going to wait around for you, or anyone else. There was a chance for us to be  _ us _ , but you didn’t take it. And now it’s gone.” She spoke quietly, her words barely more than a whisper. _

_ Harry nodded silently, and as she smiled apologetically and turned away, he realised it didn’t hurt as much as he  _ wanted  _ it to hurt. _

“I’ll be fine.” He said under his breath as they apparated from Grimmauld Place, leaving behind mere wisps, although it was more a consolation for him than it was for them.

***

It had barely been a day since Hermione and Ron had left for Shell Cottage, and the unease in Harry’s gut hadn’t dared to leave. He was on edge all the time - the stillness of everything filled him with an inexplicable dread. He would almost have preferred Mrs. Black’s unearthly screaming (Hermione had finally figured out how to remove it from the wall, and Harry had destroyed it the minute it was off). 

Occasionally, he would see Kreacher in the kitchen or in the hall - he kept disappearing off somewhere, although Harry wasn’t sure where exactly. He was confident that it wasn’t anywhere near the Blacks or the Malfoys - at least, he hoped it wasn’t. 

  
  


Still, even though the silence was unbearable, he was somewhat getting used to it, which was why he was shocked when he heard silent scuffling from presumably the other side of the door, out on the streets.

He stood up cautiously, his wand raised and his posture stiff and alert as he walked to the door. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it would pass. Maybe it wouldn’t.

It didn’t.

Dread settled once more in the pit of his stomach. No one except Ron and Hermione knew he was here. His wards weren’t as good as Hermione’s, but he knew they were enough. So how could someone know where he was?

What he was about to do was so undeniably stupid and bound to get him murdered, but (as usual) he didn’t think. His hand rested on the door handle as he turned it-

_ “Expelliarmus!” _

“Honestly, Potter, is that the only spell you know?”

_ “Malfoy?” _

As Harry stared into a pair of familiar gaunt grey-blue eyes with his own narrowed, clutching his wand in one hand and Malfoy’s in his other, he couldn’t help but notice how utterly exhausted he looked.

His frame was unbelievably thin, his clothes scuffed and slightly torn, his hair hanging over his forehead instead of being gelled back like Harry remembered. His eyes were hollow, all life gone from them. And the way he carried himself; it was so unbelievably caged, so  _ rigid _ , like walls surrounded him from getting hurt. 

He looked like he was going to break any second.

The only thing familiar Harry could note was the slight smirk he carried so often with him. 

“Why are you here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You have five minutes to explain.” Harry replied roughly, his wand pointing at him.

“You want me to explain here, outside? Where someone could so easily see us?”

“You’re not coming inside.”

“Look, tie me up or whatever, but I’m not explaining out in the open.”

Harry considered this before nodding his head a fraction. “Fine.  _ Incarcerous _ .”

Thin ropes shot out from his wand, tying Malfoy where he stood. The door closed behind him.

“Huh. You  _ do _ know something other than  _ Expelliarmus _ . I’m impressed.” Malfoy sounded as obnoxious as he always did, although there was a slight quiver to his voice that made Harry wonder whether he was trying exceptionally hard to.

And that was when Harry realised that Malfoy too was a war-child, in one way or the other. His side or not, it didn’t change what Malfoy went through.

Harry jabbed his wand at him, eyes narrowed. “ _ Explain. _ ”

Draco breathed heavily, his eyes darting to Harry’s. “Turns out the world isn’t as black and white as I thought. There’s a shitload of grey.” He paused. “I’m not one of them anymore. Look, I don’t even have the mark.” He rolled his sleeve up, silvery-grey scars where the mark was supposed to be. “They can’t track me. They think I’m dead.”

“Why do they think you’re dead?”

“It’s- My mother was supposed to have killed me. Turns out I wasn’t worthy or something.” He paused again, his face void of any emotion. “I- she couldn’t do it. She let me go.”

Harry swallowed. He had a conscience, and then he had a Ron and an Hermione in his mind. The Ron was begging him to throw Malfoy back out, the Hermione telling him to think rationally, and his conscience - well, that was a completely different story.

“How’d you find this place?”

“No offense, Potter, but your wards are nothing compared to Granger’s. I know she’s gone - I’m not going to ask where or why.”

A beat, and then Harry gestured toward Draco’s arm. “What happened to your mark?”

He didn’t answer at first, deciding what to say. “I burnt it off,” Malfoy said finally. “They track every mark. Didn’t want them to know where I was.”

Harry blinked in surprise. He couldn’t say he’d expected that answer. “Why should I help you?”

Malfoy’s expression showed a twinge of uncertainty and helplessness before going back to its emotionless state. “Look- coming here, it was sort of like the last resort. I’m not asking you to forgive me, to  _ help _ \- I’m just asking you to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Harry stood still for a moment, on his guard with his wand still up. “No,” he said simply, lowering his wand and turning away, when-

“Wait.”

He didn’t answer, he didn’t  _ care  _ to.

“You know I have inside information, information that may be enough to take him down. Would you want to pass up an opportunity like that?”

Malfoy’s tone was steady, casual - it was a sore temptation to say yes. Yet, Harry stood his ground, turning back around slowly. “Is this inside information you talk about enough for me to change my mind?”

In the dim, candlelit hall, he could make out the outline of the smirk that Malfoy always wore so proudly. “I could give you a list of all of them, dead, alive, unknown, and anything else you ask for. I’m only asking you to tolerate me at most.”

He licked his lips, fighting a silent battle in his head. On one hand, Malfoy was his sworn enemy - a person he despised beyond thought. There was no reason to trust him.

But on the other hand…

“There’s a room down the hall. You’re staying until I let you.” Harry said through gritted teeth, wondering if his decision was made poorly. “Don’t blame me if there’re any doxies or boggarts.  _ Relashio _ .”

With those words lingering in the air, Harry disappeared down the other end of the hall, leaving Malfoy standing there.

**Author's Note:**

> first post on this site ever :)  
> ive been l i n g e r i n g around as a guest here, and a couple days ago i spontaneously made an account, and here we are!


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